White Noise
by kedavra97
Summary: The year is 1922. Hermione is a young pureblood witch living a life of luxury in New York City. She crosses paths with a mysterious orphan named Tom, and soon finds that the boy is more unpredictable than the city itself. AU. Dark, possessive Tom.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Since I'm snowed in and refuse to be productive, I decided to post another fic. I was thinking about The Great Gatsby for some reason and had this odd inspiration. This fic will be long, and Hermione and Tom will grow up. **

**Disclaimer: This is all property of queen J.K.**

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_New York City, 1922._

It was a rainy morning, which wasn't surprising. It was one of those summers.

Hermione looked out of her bedroom window and absorbed the picturesque view of the city. Father had invited the usual group of boring, conceited pureblood families for dinner. They were all currently in the dining room, discussing politics, bankrupt families, or blood traitors.

Hermione sighed. Her breath frosted the windowpane. It was all so trivial.

She barely heard the doorknob twist before her brother entered the room.

"Hermione, you can't stay in here all night. Mother would be furious," Theodore said, stepping towards her. "Go and be a proper pureblood princess and socialize."

Hermione slowly turned her head from the glass to face him.

"You couldn't pay me enough to go back down there. As if there isn't anything more important to talk about than Pansy's new hairstyle or Astoria's trip to France!" she said exasperatedly. "If Mother asks, just tell her I'm sick."

Theodore frowned. "_Please_ Teddy?" Hermione implored. "You'd be the best brother in the whole world!" She wrapped her thin arms around his tall frame.

"Alright, alright," Theodore said, shrugging her arms off. "But this is the last time I cover for you."

Hermione gave him her best smile. Theodore rolled his eyes. He turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Hermione walked over to her desk. She let her fingers dance over the latest titles she'd bought.

She picked up her copy of Anna Karenina, a muggle book she kept hidden from her parents, and opened to her favorite chapter. For an hour, she was contented by thrilling affairs and the dashing Count Vronsky.

A quiet tapping noise coming from her window brought her out of the world of the Russian aristocracy. She stepped closer to the glass.

Two rocks came flying at the window. _Tap tap_. Puzzled, she opened the window and looked out of it.

"Hey! Down here!"

She glanced downwards, only to see a boy waving his arm frantically. She heard dogs barking in the distance.

"Can I come up?"

Hermione spluttered for an answer. _A random boy taps on my window and thinks he can come into my bedroom?_ The wailing of a police siren grew closer.

"I don't even know you!" she exclaimed.

"Look, I'm in trouble and I need help. Let me up for two minutes and I'll explain," the boy said.

Hermione held her tongue from exclaiming _"No!"_ loudly and running to get her father, who would surely get rid of the poor muggle. Her expression conflicted, she stared at the boy's thin frame, midnight hair, and earnest gray eyes.

Wasn't she always reading about spontaneous adventures? Maybe it was time to have one of her own.

"Alright, two minutes," she said firmly. "Can you climb up?"

He nodded, lithely scaling the wall by holding on to the thick layer of moss growing along the brick. She extended an arm out to pull him into the room, and he grasped it. The two children fell onto the floor as he leapt inside.

The sound of sirens grew fainter in the distance.

Hermione rubbed her backside as she stood, which had made rough contact with the floor when the boy fell onto her. The boy stood up smoothly and appeared unaffected. He wore a gray, old tunic that hung loosely on his thin frame. He glanced around the room.

"So? Aren't you going to tell me why on earth you needed to come in here?" Hermione said, hands on her hips, foot tapping impatiently.

"I nicked something. Needed to avoid the cops," he said simply. His calculating eyes searched her face for something.

_What had she gotten herself into? Aiding a muggle thief!_ Her inner proper pureblood voice told her to run and get Father.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you in!" she said irately. "You're a common thief! I should turn you in right no-"

"I stole _food_. I'm sorry that it's a bigger crime in this city for a rich shopkeeper to lose a loaf of bread than for a child to starve."

Hermione looked visibly deflated. She stepped closer to the boy, caramel eyes wide. "You're...you're starving?"

The boy gave a curt nod. "I don't need your pity," he said in a cold voice.

Hermione outstretched a hand, and then let it drop to her side. "I don't pity you. I just can hardly believe it."

"Well, believe it. Most children in this city don't have as good a life as you do in this posh estate, princess," the boy said, resuming his smooth demeanor.

Hermione's expression hardened. "How am I supposed to know how the other half lives when my parents keep me here at home all day?"

"You could _live_ a little. Sneak out," the boy said with a shrug, as if it were the simplest thing on earth. "See the city you live in for once. I could show you," he offered.

Hermione was lost for words. "_Sneak out_?! I'm only ten!"

"So am I, and I'm out on the streets all the time."

Hermione bit her lip. She felt more tempted than ever before. The boy was a snake, tempting her to grab the apple, and she was Eve.

Why shouldn't she take a bite?

"Okay. I'll do it."

The boy nodded. He didn't look triumphant or joyous - his face remained a mask. They could hear forks scraping and glasses chinking downstairs.

"I'll meet you here at this time tomorrow. Don't be late," he smirked.

The boy turned to stalk out the window he had come through. He had placed a foot on the windowsill when Hermione spoke out.

"Wait! I don't even know your name!"

He glanced back. "Tom."

Hermione felt it odd to not introduce herself as well.

"I'm Hermione."

"See you tomorrow, Hermione," he said, her name rolling off his tongue like liquid poison. With a leap, he was out of her room and back on the street.

She looked outside to watch him leave, but he was gone. She remained at her window long after the boy had left, long after her parents' party had ended.

"Tom," she whispered, fingers tracing patterns on the glass.

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**Sorry it's pretty short, but what'd you guys think? Please leave a review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Check out that update speed! *blinds u with speed* And it's way longer to make up for the first chapter's shortness.**

**So I read and did a little happy dance at each and every review you guys sent in. I really take the stuff you guys say into consideration. For example, some things I wanted to address:**

**Tom will be dark in this fic. Ain't no lemons in sight here. Also, Hogwarts will be included. And ALSO, I'm trying not to move this along too quickly, yet I'm also trying not to go to slowly and bore everyone. Please let me know how I'm doing on that.**

**So thanks to Mademoiselle Dara, leeleepupu, dudidude, LadyRana, tomionecrackhead, Sasha404, Cassie-D1, Smithback, Guestreader, ellebelle12, and fspsarcastic for reviewing! *sends cyber cookies your way***

**On to the chapter!**

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Hermione itched at the high neckline of her dress – a pale pink item that came to rest along her collarbone. When that itch was sated, she felt a new irritation along her sides, where her house elf had laced the corset too tightly.

Corsets were so out of fashion anyway. She couldn't understand why her mother continued to force her to wear one every day, even in the comfort of their own home.

Hermione glanced around the table and caught Theodore's playful eyes. She mouthed '_bored' _at him, and he rolled his eyes. He made a sort of gesture to pay attention, so Hermione forced her ears to listen to the mundane conversation, while bringing another forkful of quail to her lips.

"-knows who Dumbledore will appoint to the Board of Governors," her father was saying.

"As long as the new member is faithful to our purpose, I hope he is welcomed," her mother said, lifting a glass of wine daintily to her lips.

"Mother," Hermione said, making sure her voice was the perfect mixture of submissive and courteous, "May I be excused?"

Her mother turned to her with narrowed eyes. "You will sit until everyone has finished their meal," she said, an edge of steel and disapproval entering her voice.

"Come now, Priscilla," her father intoned passively. "Surely Hermione can be excused since this is not a formal dinner." He turned to his daughter. "You may be excused if you wish."

"Thank you, Father," Hermione said, bowing her head and scooting off of her seat. She tried not to meet the harsh glare of her mother as she left the room.

Finally, she felt as if she could breathe again. All day and all night only one thought plagued her mind: Tom. She thought about him and their upcoming encounter so much that she was beginning to wonder if she had imagined their whole meeting the night before, and if he was all but a figment of her lonely imagination. She felt deeply saddened at the possibility.

She hurried upstairs to her bedroom, careful not to be seen by the house elves, and locked her door. _He could be here any minute_, she thought nervously. _Was she wearing the right clothes for their adventure? What did young vagrants usually wear? Were there books about wandering the streets?_

A million erratic thoughts flooded her mind before she suddenly realized that someone might come looking for her. If her parents found out she snuck out with a _muggle_ she just met… she shuddered. Thinking fast, she shoved some bed sheets under her covers into a human shaped lump and closed the thin curtains around her canopy bed. Hopefully her parents would assume she went to bed early if they desired to check on her.

With that task done, and feeling pretty proud of her quick thinking, Hermione stared blankly at the window. After a few minutes passed, she began tapping her foot. _Where is he? Did he forget about me? Or maybe I'm right and he's not even real at all…_

Just as she turned to continue pacing, a knock sounded at her window. Breath flooded through her lungs like a drowned man gulping air. _He remembered._

She raced to her window and opened it, craning her neck downwards. There he stood, in the same raggedy tunic from yesterday.

"Jump down," he said.

"Jump?! I'll hurt myself!"

"No you won't. Didn't you see me do it yesterday?"

That was true – he had jumped and seemed fine. Well, maybe his muggleness allowed him to jump from here to there like a monkey – _she_ certainly couldn't do it.

"Tom," she hissed, "I _can't_ jump. Even if I do land, my dress will fly up and you'll see my…," she gulped and blushed, hoping he realized what she meant.

If it was daytime and she could see him clearly, she'd bet he was rolling his eyes. "I won't look," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and she was some immature child. "If you don't jump in the next few minutes, I'm leaving," he warned.

Hermione swallowed a nervous lump in her throat. "Fine," she tried to say aggressively, but her voice cracked. _Now or never._

She closed her eyes and leapt off of the windowsill. A rush of air flooded her lungs when her feet touched ground, and she felt Tom's arms hoisting her upwards.

"Wasn't so hard, was it?" he said with a smirk.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. "You're lucky I didn't break a leg or something. I would have hunted you down after my leg healed and –"

Hermione abruptly halted her rant. After a pause, she burst into surprised giggles. "I can't believe it. I actually snuck out! We can do anything!"

"Two feet from your window isn't sneaking out. Now come along before we get caught," he said, tugging at her arm.

The two children walked down the eerie dark street, Tom tightly grasping Hermione's forearm. Hermione's polished shoes _click-clacked_ against the stone pavement.

"So," Hermione's small voice rang out nervously in the darkness, "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Tom said simply, and continued dragging her along.

Hermione huffed impatiently. "I hate surprises," she said grumpily. "Can't you tell me now?"

"What part of 'you'll see' didn't you understand? You'd think they taught you to be a little patient in that estate of yours."

Hermione made a move to cross her arms in annoyance, but Tom's tight grip didn't allow it. "It's not every day that I sneak out. Please forgive me if my nerves are all over the place," she said sarcastically.

After a block of walking in silence, Hermione had her second epiphany of the night. She was out in the middle of nowhere in a city she barely knew with a complete stranger. They passed city light by city light, building by building, and all of them looked exactly the same. _Anything_ could happen to her out here, and Mother, Father, and Teddy might never know.

If she felt anxious before, her nerves had now increased ten-fold. Her corset felt like a monster from a child's imagination, yanking and squeezing her air supply in tight.

"Tom."

"What? If you're about to ask where we're going again I'm shoving you in that dumpster," he said, pointing a finger.

"What I was _going_ to say was, where do you live?"

Tom faltered in his steps slightly, and then resumed his brisk pace. "None of your business," he said snidely.

"Tom! No fair!" Hermione stomped her foot. "You know where I live!"

"Has anyone ever told you that life isn't fair, princess?"

"If you tell me where you live, I'll tell you a fact about me," she said, reverting to negotiations.

"And I care about your boring little life because…?" Tom sneered.

"…Because I can tell you're secretly curious, and want to know more about me," she said arrogantly. The truth was she couldn't tell anything about her mysterious friend, if she could call him that.

When Tom didn't reply, she tried another method. "Look. Do you want to be my friend or not?"

For the first time, Tom halted his steps and turned on her. "Friend?" he scoffed. "Why would I want your friendship?"

Hermione felt a little intimidated by his harsh disposition, but tried not to show it. "Because…," she fished for a response, "friends help each other. They always support each other and have fun together, and," she added quietly, "I don't have many friends."

Tom's eyes softened. "Neither do I."

"See?" she said, grasping his hand. "_We_ can be friends!"

Tom looked down, and appeared to be mulling it all over. He looked up. "Alright," he said firmly. "But if you're going to be my friend, you can't have any other friends."

"Tom, the purpose of friendship isn't to-"

"I mean it, Hermione," he said, his voice gaining an edge of steel. Then his eyes softened into liquid grey pools and he smiled softly at her. "Please? It's my one condition."

Hermione stared into his eyes and could feel her resolve weakening. "Okay fine, I agree."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

Tom still appeared unconvinced. "We should make it really official, like with a vow or something," he said, thinking aloud. After deeply thinking for a moment, he said, "I'll think of a proper vow to make for next time."

"Next time?" Hermione said with a grin. "There'll be more times?"

"Obviously," Tom sneered. "We're friends, remember?"

Both children laughed. Hermione thought Tom looked rather adorable when he laughed.

"We're here," he said, eyes focused somewhere off in the distance. Hermione peeled her eyes from his nearly unnoticeable dimples and matched his stare.

"Where are we?" she said, gazing about in wonderment.

"Central Park," he said, sliding his grip on her arm down to hold her hand. "Come along," he ordered.

He sat on a sort of moveable apparatus, which jostled about, attached by two long chains to a wooden frame. She moved to go sit on the seat beside him warily.

"It's called a swing-set," he said, eyes full of mirth. "It doesn't bite."

"I know what it is," Hermione spat viciously, hoping he didn't notice her lie.

"Oh really. Then by all means, _swing_."

Having no idea how to 'swing', Hermione stayed in place, seated precariously on her wooden seat. Tom laughed at her expense. Hermione glared.

"See? Swing!" He pushed his legs back and forth, and the momentum he created seemed to power him into the air.

Hermione tried to mirror his odd movements, but she wasn't able to swing at all. Tom sighed. "You're lucky I'm your friend," he said, getting off his swing to assist.

"I'm regretting ever mentioning friendship to you."

Tom ignored that comment. "Grip the chains," he ordered. He moved to stand behind her and suddenly gave her a push.

Hermione shrieked as she flew into the air, eyes flying shut. But she didn't land on the ground a crumpled bloody heap as she expected. She tentatively opened her eyes, taking in the blur of the city with each of Tom's shoves.

She laughed with delight. "Faster, Tom!"

The children played on the swing-set until both felt the lull of sleep pressing on their eyelids. "Tom," Hermione said softly as the swing came to a standstill, "I'm sleepy."

Tom helped her off the seat. "I should be getting you home. No, you've got to walk," he said when she tried to attempt to sit again.

Tom grabbed her hand and pulled her along, past hundreds of alleyways and dozens of buildings. "Almost there," he said, and his cool voice reached Hermione in her bleary-eyed haze.

"Tom," she murmured. He turned to face her, not halting in his progression. "You still haven't told me where you live."

Tom's features hardened, but Hermione's eyes were too bleary to notice the subtle change. She squeezed his hand a little tighter. "Tom?"

"The orphanage," he gritted out. "Wool's Orphanage."

Hermione barely managed to hold back her gasp. She itched to ask who his parents were, if they were dead or just abandoned him, or if-

She opened her mouth to voice these and a dozen more questions, but suddenly closed it just as fast. _If I was an orphan, I would hate to be asked that all the time._ Instead, she chose a more practical question.

"How far away is Wool's? It's already so late – nearly morning! I don't want something to happen to you on your way back!"

"It's not far," he answered vaguely. "I'll be fine. I always am."

"Tom," she tugged his arm. He turned around and stopped walking. She could see the light coming from her bedroom window in the distance.

"I'll worry about you all night. Please, stay with me?"

"Hermione, I can't. The caretaker checks to make sure everyone's accounted for every morning."

"Okay, how about this," she said, eyes flittering about as she formulated a plan. "You stay the night in my room and I hide you under my bed. As the sun rises, you sneak back out and get in your bed at the orphanage, and no one's the wiser."

Tom appeared ready to depart, but the dark ovals beneath his eyes conveyed his true state. "Alright," he said with a yawn. "I won't lie – I am tired."

Hermione gave him her best smile. "See? What are friends for?"

Tom rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips.

Later, when Hermione crawled into her warm bed, she couldn't help but think about the boy sleeping beneath her in a makeshift cot. That night, for the first time in her life, she fell asleep with a smile on her lips.

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**D'awww wasn't that adorable? Cherish moments like these, before Tom gets really dark. *evil laughter***

**I tried to make Tom a realistic amount of Slytherinyness/darkness at his young age. And sorry if Hermione seems a little immature - remember, she's 10! Please let me know how I did on keeping them in character. REVIEW :)!**


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